


All I Need Is My Buddies

by Rana Eros (ranalore)



Category: Cheon Sang Ji Hee
Genre: F/F, OT4, chromatic characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-19
Updated: 2010-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranalore/pseuds/Rana%20Eros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zombies and ice cream -- what more do you need to know?</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Need Is My Buddies

**Author's Note:**

> Man, this took a while to write, and I still didn't manage porn. But then, what is porn compared to zombies and ice cream? Betaed by Eliza, title from the Beatles by way of Joe Cocker.

It's not that Stephanie doesn't have shit to do on days Lina has solo photoshoots. She's not as messy as certain other individuals who live here--seriously, last time she looked, you couldn't actually see the floor in Dana and Sunday's room--but she's still got a few pieces of clothing to put away or throw in the laundry bag. She's got email and texts to answer, phone calls to make, choreography to plan out and choreography to practice. She's got some coursework she should really finish sometime this week.

Even without all the obligations, she's got a stack of books she wants to read, some videos she wants to check out, a mental list of places she wants to go and things she wants to do while they're in Tokyo. She's had to keep herself entertained for long stretches of her life, and she's good at it.

She just...isn't so fond of it, since meeting Lina.

Which doesn't mean she doesn't try. She always wakes up with Lina's goodbye kiss, but then she stays in bed until she either falls asleep again or knows that sleep's not coming. Then she gets up, does her morning stretches, and straightens up the room. Lina's her running partner, so she hits the nearby Western-style gym when Lina's out. Sunday likes to give her grief for how American her routine is, but Dana gets excited about being gym buddies and then sweet-talks Sunday into giving them massages after.

At least, that's what happens when Sunday and Dana are home and awake. This morning, their door's closed and the rest of the house is empty, so she goes to the gym alone. When there are still no signs of life when she returns, she sits down to answer messages and eat breakfast from the gym's cafeteria while her hair dries. She emails her mom to say she's working hard, eating right, and getting enough sleep, the first of which is completely true and the second and third of which she's not sure her mother will ever believe. She texts BoA to gloat over getting her hands on the next issue of _One Piece_ first, then texts Junsu to gloat over her current Mario Kart score. She finds a text from Lina that says _Don't sleep all day_ after she's returned a phone call to their choreographer. Because it will make Lina roll her eyes and laugh, Stephanie doesn't capitalize when she texts back _can if i want_.

After that, she tries to get some singing practice done, but she can hear her own boredom, and she only manages one run through of each of their three new songs before she stops. She thinks about dancing instead, then ponders what's on TV. Maybe Sunday and Dana have finally stirred, and she hasn't heard them because of the headphones.

Passing their open door is a good sign, and as she gets closer to the living room, she hears the unmistakable sound of somebody playing something violent on their xBox. Judging by the swearing, it's Sunday.

Stephanie rounds the corner into their main living area to see that it is, indeed, Sunday, wielding her controller in what's doubtless a deeply complex strategy, but just looks like random button-mashing to Stephanie. Hard experience has taught them all never to interrupt Sunday--or Lina, for that matter--while she's killing things, so Stephanie heads for the kitchen to dish herself up a little cold comfort food.

She's pondering a third scoop of ice cream when the music for loading the next level comes on and Sunday says, "It lives! How you doing, baby girl?"

Stephanie rolls her eyes, though she was expecting it. There isn't even a year's difference between them, but Sunday likes to act like it's decades, and Stephanie's just about given up on retraining her. "I'm good. Doing better than the zombies, sounds like, and aren't you supposed to be waiting on Lina to play that?"

"That's 7. I thought I'd improve my score on 5."

"What happened to 6?"

"6 is an abomination of which we shall never speak again." Sunday must have paused the game, because she watches Stephanie put away the ice cream and take a bite. "What _is_ that, anyway?"

Sunday knows what it is or she wouldn't ask, but apparently Stephanie's inclined toward indulgence today. Maybe temporary loneliness has rendered her temporarily insane. Whatever it is, she swallows and says, "Moose Tracks."

It could be that Sunday's look of revolted curiosity is downright priceless. "Seriously?"

Stephanie gestures at the freezer with her spoon. "I can pull the carton back out so you can see it for the thousandth time."

"I keep thinking I have to be reading it wrong. It's just. It's gross! Americans are gross!"

Stephanie snorts at Sunday's outraged tone. She's in rare form today. Still, she's not really in a place to pass judgment. "Says the woman with the zombie fetish."

"Not to eat!"

Stephanie shrugs, takes another bite and lets Sunday see her savor it. Sunday shudders melodramatically, and Stephanie has to swallow again before she ends up choking on laughter and melting ice cream. When her airway is clear, she points out, "Chocolate and caramel. A woman has needs."

"Oh, I see now," Sunday says in this mock-superior tone, straightening on the couch. Stephanie makes a show of licking her spoon while she waits for the rest of Sunday's statement, and while Sunday's eyes track her with interest, the look on Sunday's face says she will not be deterred. "You're so love-starved without your girlfriend around that you're willing to sublimate via frozen processed sugar and preservatives named after animal scat."

Stephanie knew Sunday was winding up to something good, which is why she didn't take another bite, but she can't stop herself from snorting again, which means the ice cream still on her spoon ends up on her hand, her shirt, and the kitchen counter. "Shit," she says, grabbing a dish towel and scrubbing at her clothes while Sunday cracks up in the living room. The dish towel isn't doing much but spreading the mess around, so she switches to a damp paper towel and tries to use the powers of her mind to make Sunday fall off the couch and stop laughing. "You are an evil, evil woman, Sunday _the Grace_ , and also never allowed to read Dana's pop psych textbook again."

"Hubba," Sunday says as she straightens up, her eyes fixed on Stephanie's chest. She smiles innocently. "I'm sorry, were you saying something? I got a little distracted by the impromptu wet tee-shirt contest in the kitchen."

"It's not a contest if it's only me." Seeing a chance to get some of her own back, Stephanie tugs her shirt down to make it tighter and gives Sunday a wolfish grin. "Not that it's much of a contest when it's more than me."

"Well, I was going to offer my bosom on which you could lay your sorrows, but if that's what you think of it--"

"Your _bosom_? My _sorrows_? Been watching historical dramas, Sunday-unni? Or should I say ajumma?"

Sunday narrows her eyes. "Oh, now who's being evil?"

"It's a shame an impressionable girl like me lives with such bad influences."

Sunday leers extravagantly and pats the couch. "Come sit by me and I'll show you how influential I can be."

"You forgot to call me little girl and offer me candy."

"Because what you need in your diet is _more_ refined sugar."

Stephanie gestures emphatically at the TV with her spoon. "Hey, do I pass judgement on your addictions?"

"Yes," Sunday says promptly. "And I hope you realize what a sacrifice it is that I'm giving up valuable undead massacre time to offer to cuddle with you. I won't even make you brush your teeth before kissing you, that's what a goddamn awesome unni I am. Now get your ass over here and take advantage of it."

Stephanie takes one last bite of ice cream before putting her bowl and spoon in the sink and heading for the couch. "I thought the point was for you to take advantage of me."

"I can do both." Sunday waggles her eyebrows in a way no drama villain can match, and Stephanie knows her so well that she can say the next line with her. "I'm flexible. Hey!"

Stephanie shakes her head and sighs as she sits down. "You really need new material."

Sunday spreads her arms and waits until Stephanie's snuggled in against her to say, "I don't know, that line still works."

"Only because somebody's got to save you from your addiction to the undead hordes," Stephanie says, then turns her head enough to give Sunday a raspberry on the side of her throat. Sunday squawks and tries to push her away, but not hard enough to do any good. Stephanie laughs, which lessens the impact of her next raspberry. She's still trying for a third when the front door opens.

"Tadaima!" Dana calls out as she comes in. She puts her grocery bags down on the kitchen counter and raises her eyebrow at the scene on the couch. "Looks like I got here just in time for the good stuff."

"Come help me teach the maknae a lesson!" Sunday demands, and Stephanie wonders what lesson she's supposed to be learning, other than how to grope more efficiently in a horizontal position. Dana appears skeptical, too.

"Well, whatever lesson you're trying to teach, it's clear you can use some help. Unless the point is to end up being used as a body pillow, and I have to say I can see the appeal there."

Stephanie grins over her shoulder. "Get out of the kitchen, woman, and come make me a sandwich."

"Only if you promise me that bad pickup lines aren't catching," Dana laughs, but she pulls a box out of one of the grocery bags and heads toward them.

"What are you gonna do if we can't promise that?"

Dana gives her sunniest smile, then sets the box down on the coffee table and opens it. Sunday pauses in molesting Stephanie to make little hungry noises as Dana lifts a mochi out of the box. Dana tears the mochi in two, then leans forward to feed Stephanie and Sunday one piece each. "Then I'll make sure you have better things to do with your mouths."

Stephanie makes a point of kissing Dana's fingertips as she pulls them away, but is prompted by loyalty to say, "If you keep our mouths full of mochi, there won't be any left for Lina."

"Oh, the mochi's just a warmup," Dana murmurs, returning her fingers to Stephanie's lips. "Don't worry, I promised Lina-unni I'd take care of both of you while she's off setting new and impossible beauty standards. She'll understand if a little mochi must be sacrificed in the name of keeping our dongsaengs happy."

"Especially if we send her photographic evidence of just how happy we get," Sunday says, clearly finished with her mochi and holding up her cellphone with an evil gleam in her eye. "What do you say we do our own photoshoot?"

"Just remember to delete the pictures after they've served their purpose this time." Stephanie taps Sunday's phone meaningfully. "Especially if you're going to leave this lying around where anybody could pick it up and start pushing buttons."

"I told you it was passcode-locked; I'm not new to this fame thing, baby."

Stephanie rolls her eyes, but she's not really worried. They're all careful, and anyway, she knows Sunday's code. She can always get rid of the evidence herself, if it comes down to it.

After it's served its purpose, of course. At least Lina will know she didn't spend the whole day moping in their room.

She tilts her head at Dana and says, "What do you think?"

Dana grins, picks up another mochi and sticks it half in her own mouth. She crooks her finger at Stephanie, who laughs and leans forward.

"Action," she says, and makes contact.


End file.
